A goodly place it was, divided into two rooms and already the hands of
the two sisters had fashioned of such scant things as they possessed
and dared buy from the factory on the year's debt, a semblance of
comfort.
In the other cabins the rest of the party managed to double, each
family taking one of the two rooms in each, and the women at least drew
a sigh of content that the long trail had at last found an end, however
unstable of tenure.
"Ah, Maren," said Marie Baptiste, sitting on the shining new log step
of her domicile, "what it is to have a home! Does it not clutch at your
heart sometimes, ma cherie, the desire for a home, and that which goes
with it, the love of a man?"
She raised her eyes to the face of Maren leaning above her against the
lintel, and they were full of a puzzled question.
Maren answered the look with a swift smile, toying lightly with a fold
of the faded sleeve rolled above her elbow.
"Home for me, Marie, is the wide blue sky above, the wind in the
tossing trees, the ripple of soft waters on the bow of a canoe. For
me,--I grieve that we have stopped. Not this year do we reach the Land
of the Whispering Hills.
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